His Betrayal, My Beautiful Rebirth

I was the secret girlfriend of rising political star Kellen Jefferson, and the sacrifice he made thirty-eight times to appease his manipulative sister, Cherrelle.

Her cruelty escalated from ruining my career to pushing me off a stage, breaking my wrist. Kellen covered it up.

He chose her again when she pushed me down a flight of stairs, covering up the attempted murder. He chose her when he publicly kissed her after she framed me for stalking.

But the moment that truly killed my love was when I was abducted. I called him, begging for help. He never answered.

Later, I saw the video: he watched my call come in and, at his sister' s urging, let it go to voicemail. He abandoned me to die.

After escaping with my life, I disappeared.

Two years later, he saw my face on the cover of a magazine-a celebrated artist with a new life and a new love. And he finally understood what he had lost.

Chapter 1

It was our anniversary, the day we met, the day Kellen said he first fell in love with me. Now, for the thirty-eighth time, he was going to break up with me.

The stale air of his campaign office clung to me. It smelled of ambition and old coffee. Kellen stood by the window, his back to me, the city lights a blurred backdrop to his perfect silhouette. He was handsome, undeniably. Charismatic. The kind of man who could charm a room with a single smile, leaving everyone convinced he was on their side.

He turned, his blue eyes, usually so vibrant, clouded with a practiced sorrow. This was the sorrow he reserved just for me, for these moments.

"Hayden," he began, his voice a low rumble. "We need to talk."

My stomach didn't drop. My heart didn't clench. There was no surge of panic. Just a dull, familiar ache, like a phantom limb. I knew what was coming. I always knew.

"Cherrelle," I said, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

He flinched, a slight tremor in his jaw. My calm always unnerved him. He preferred me crying, begging, making a scene. It made his performance feel more real, I suppose.

"She's having another episode," he confessed, running a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair. "The paranoia is back. She says she saw you... she thinks you're trying to sabotage me again."

"Again?" I deadpanned. "When was the first time, Kellen? Or the second? Or the thirty-seventh?"

He ignored my sarcasm. "She's threatening to go public about... about her past. The DUI. The accident. It would ruin everything. My campaign, my future."

His future. Always his future. Never our future.

"And what about my future?" I asked, but the words felt hollow. I didn't expect an answer. I never got one.

He stepped closer, his hand reaching for mine, then hesitating. It was always like this. A half-hearted gesture, a show of guilt he couldn't fully commit